Dustling
by Sephenia
Summary: The fate of the fateless.
1. Chapter 1

From the beginning, we were wrong. And only now, well into the second decade of the conflict, have we begun to understand the mistakes we have made. We lived in harmony among the Fae, in a world awakened to new magic. Perhaps we should have foreseen what might be born on this rising tide. What force might awaken. A force, powerful enough to twist even the eternal and immutable Fae folk. But Gadflow, the new king of the winter court, surprised us all. Singular among his people, he was everything other Fae were not: Aggressive, ambitious, visionary. He had power like none that we had ever seen. Terrible and deadly. Gadflow and his followers, the 'Tuatha Deohn,' believed that a new god was to be born in the east, beneath Gadflow's crystalline fortress of Amethyn. In the name of that god, they marched to war against the young races of Amalur. Against a mortal army, no matter the power of their god, we might have been victorious. But Fae are creatures of magic, not bound by the laws of life and death. Each Tuatha fallen on the battle field would soon rise again, for the Fae do not know death as we do. How could we stand against such a force? For ten years, the war raged. For ten years, the armies of men and Alfar fought and died. But as our numbers dwindled, we knew that it was only a matter of time. Our fate had been written. At least that is what we believed. Until you died...


	2. Chapter 2

The squeak of the cart wheels bounced of the smooth, stone-brick walls of the corridor as the gnome pushed it over the polished, grey tiles of the tower floor. The corridor was wide, supported by thick, smoothly carved pillars carefully constructed on either side along its length. High above, elaborate chandeliers hung, filtering soft light down on the scene below. The light wasn't strong as the chandeliers were more for decoration than lighting. Because of this, torches had been fastened to the wall, their bases carved into the likeness of a face and multicoloured, stained glass windows decorated the length of the corridor, illuminating the floor with a spectrum of purples and blues.

The gnome was short, as gnomes usually are, with silver hair where it hadn't completely disappeared, and unkempt grey muttonchops. Despite his lack of height, pushing the heavy cart proved to be no challenge for him. Beside him, a younger gnome walked, his hair a mess of short red strands with a large, distracting mustache taking up half his face. The younger carried a notepad. "What do you think this one is then?" The younger of the two said, gesturing to the mound beneath the brown, thatched sheet that lay un-moving on the cart, "Alfar? Varani? Could even be a Jottun!" He smiled at his grim faced companion, "Always a surprise eh, Guran?"

"Eyes on the job boy!" Guran snapped back, "Don't matter what it is, dead's dead. And be thankful for that Encel! All we've seen..." The grey haired gnome trailed off, swinging his faded eyes to look forward once more. "Go ahead and pull back the sheet though, It will need to be in our report, one way or the other."

Encel reached over with a gloved hand, pulling the brown sheet back and looking beneath. She was beautiful. With long, cascading scarlet hair that flowed un-contained over her shoulders , black, painted lips and fair, flawless skin. A black tattoo was inked across her face in an delicate, patterned design. Still pushing the cart, Guran tutted, "Looks like one of the Dokkalfar women." He said, his grey eyes scanning the body, "Held up pretty good too," He glanced up at Encel, "Al-right then, make sure it goes into the report. You know he'll want all the details."

It was a situation they had been in a thousand times before. The well of souls, the end of death itself. They should have known it was a dream that was too good to be true. But Hugues has persisted, always trying, even as they pulled corpse after lifeless corpse from the wells waters. When the body count rose too high to keep burying them in the forest surrounding the tower, he had simply designed a new wastage system. The bodies were ungracefully dumped in the caverns below the tower. Hugues had a vision and it seemed he would stop at nothing, despite the thousands of failures already feeding the flies in the caverns below. This would be the fate of the newest failure.

Encel nodded, pulling the sheet back over the body of the woman before scribbling down the information on his note pad. "Amazing how well the body held up," he muttered idly, still scribbling away at his notes, "Better than I've ever seen,"

Guran nodded in agreement, "Well I'm just glad its not moving," He grunted, earning a glance from Encel, "Must have been born under a lucky star, this one,"

"Is there any thing else we need?" Encel asked, raising his quill. Guran rolled his eyes, muttering something rude about young people and their questions under his breath. "Unless you'd like to name her," he snapped, glaring at the younger gnome, "I think we're done here. Lets put her with the others."

Encel grinned, scribbling one last thing down on his notes, glancing up to make certain Guran didn't notice. The older Gnome wasn't looking. This made the younger gnome grin wider.

Guran shoved the cart around the next corner along a path lit solely by torchlight and began towards the gaping black hole in the wall. Encel said nothing, still smiling. The older gnome came to a stop, pulling the cart to a halt Just before the two wheels disappeared into the gaping hole in the wall and tipped the cart, watching as the Dokkalfar woman's body and the sheet disappeared into the darkness of the cavern below.. "Well," Encel said in his over enthusiastic way,still looking into the empty darkness where the bod y had disappeared, "That's it for you then. Better luck next time!" This earned him a withering look from Guran. "What?" the younger gnome cried, "No harm in it."

Guran glared at him. "In this place," he snapped, "She might just get a next time."


	3. Awakening

It was the smell she noticed first. The suffocating reek that seemed to blocked out every other sense. Slowly, as her consciousness returned, Katianne became aware of more and more. The slimy, wet surface below her, the aches and pains plaguing her entire body and the deafening hum of what sounded like millions upon millions of... flies.

Her crimson eyes flicked open and she looked sluggishly around her. At first, everything was a mixture of blurry shapes and dull colours, but as her vision adapted to the light, she found herself looking into the half decayed eyes of a malformed creature. Panic ripped through her and she tried to wriggle back, only to find her path blocked. Frantic, the turned her head, meeting another gruesome sight. They were everywhere. Above her, beneath her, beside her, covered by billions of flies as they fed upon the rotting flesh. Corpses in various stages of decay. Her breathing quickened into short, sharp gasps as she struggled to push away a massive dead body from above her. At first, it wouldn't budge, but finally, the thing rolled, tumbling down the pile of bodies she was on to land in the darkness somewhere below with a sickening, wet thud.

Finally ably to move, Katianne scrambled out of the tight space between the bodies where she had been previously wedged. Her feet squelched at she stepped on some of the older bodies. She reached back, leaning on a corpse behind her as she yanked her foot from where it had sunken into the mouth of a corpse. Her fingers found the eye socket of another and she gave up on balancing, instead focusing on trying to get down from the reeking pile and as far away from it as possible.

Finally freeing her foot, she made an awkward jump, landing heavily on the rib-cage of a man further below. She jumped again, landing slightly off balance with both her feet landing on separate corpses. She stumbled slightly, causing her to step back, completely crushing the skull of a figure, too twisted with decay to recognize, directly behind her. Cold brain matter, splattered up her leg, splashing her already blood soaked and rot stained pants. She jumped again, this time landing with both feet on the cold, damp stone of the cavern. her foot slipped on the moisture as she landed, causing one leg to slide from underneath her, and she stumbled forward, her knee crashing into the ground and forcing her to crouch awkwardly on the wet stones. The palm of her hand rested on the slick stones and her elbow pressed into her leg.

Bile rose in her throat and she coughed, leaning forward and vomiting onto the stones, some seeping into her pants. She struggled to take a breath, fighting off the nausea that held here pinned to the ground, retching and gagging. The smell wasn't helping and neither were the flies. Tears burned her eyes and she crawled forward, barely able to see much more than the faint blurs of colour that danced just in front of her vision. Her throat burned with a bitter taste and she spat on the floor, attempting again to stand. Not willing to turn back, she stumbled forward, her knee throbbing with each step. Below her feet, the fragments of bones littering the floor cut into the soft skin of her feet, sending sharp pain through her legs. She glance up, looking to where the stone path was leading her. A set of stairs, carved into the natural stone of the cavern lay just ahead, bathed in the flickering light of two torches.

The stone path was narrower than she had thought, only a few meters wide with drops that plummeted into the darkness of somewhere far below. A dizzy feeling came over her and she was suddenly aware of a fear of heights she never had. With a gulp, she staggered forward, finally making it to the stairs. She sat down with a thud, her eyes shut, her hands pressed over her face as she tried to steady her gasping breath. 'Okay,' she thought, trying to make sense of the situation, 'I'm in a cavern, surrounded by dead bodies. They look as though they have been dead for a while. There is, or at least was, some kind of life here once, or else the torches wouldn't be lit and the stairs wouldn't be carved.'

Finally, she gathered the courage to look up. The rotting pile lay just ahead, corpses strewn on top of one another. A few had been crushed by her desperate attempt to get down. Nausea stirred in her stomach again and she looked away, finally noticing the rest of the cavern. There were more piles, just like the one she had been on, masses of bodies collected in heaps and covered by writhing maggots. The torch light only lit up the closest one, the others were lit by the blue glow coming from shafts of light, that filtered down through cracks in the ceiling of the cavern. The light illuminated the rushing waterfalls that emptied from the roof of the cavern to disappear into the gloom. In the faint light, the silhouettes of what Katianne decided must be bats could be seen, their shadowed bodies gliding around the stalactites hanging down.

Turning around, Katianne studied the warmly lit area behind her. Above the stair case was a desk, on which a wax sealed note sat. 'It might be a clue as to how to get out of here, or at least why I'm here.' she thought, dragging herself up and limping up the stairs. The desk was made from a fine wood. Middle brown in colour and sturdy in structure. A clutter of things were sprawled across it. The chaotic mess was lit up by three small, wax candles that burned as brightly as if they had been only recently lit.

From the desk, Katianne plucked the note, breaking the red wax seal and unfurling the parchment. It was old looking. The parchment was ripped at the edges and age had browned it. Katianne frowned. That didn't make sense. Looking for an answer, she began to read.

Secrecy is still important in our work, requiring specialized disposal of our unfortunate failures.

A cold feeling swept through Katianne and she glanced up, sweeping her crimson gaze around the cavern, looking at the piles of corpses. She shuddered, then continued to read.

Piling remains have become a concern in the lower caverns, so an incinerator has been added to deal with the wastes. This should make disposal slightly less horrible, although you should avoid drinking water from downstream of the ash dumps. Hardly a fitting rest for the poor things, but if it's any consolation, these weren't their original bodies in the first place.

It was signed 'Fomorous Hugues'

Katianne stared down at the note in her hands, horror creeping through her, numbing her senses. Unfortunate failures? Piling remains? What the hell was going on here?


End file.
